


Coffee and Cigarettes

by peachypunk



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barista!Billy, Billy is queer as in gay but also queer as in fuck you, Flirting and banter, Homophobic Language, M/M, Punk!Billy, college student!Steve, this is cute and dumb idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27038950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachypunk/pseuds/peachypunk
Summary: Drip. Drip.Billy stares, unimpressed, at the college kid currently dripping rainwater all over the floor and counter of the cozy little coffeeshop Billy lovingly refers to as his shitty second job. It had started pouring a couple of minutes ago, a perfect end to a dreary Tuesday morning, and now there’s this guy standing in front of him with dark wet hair and big brown eyes looking at him like a drowned puppy.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley/Heather Holloway
Comments: 51
Kudos: 178





	1. vanilla latte

**Author's Note:**

> this is a very self-indulgent coffeeshop au featuring a punk Billy and a college jock Steve. and it's gonna be cute and dumb and hopefully a lot of fun. un-beta'd

_ Drip. Drip. _

Billy stares, unimpressed, at the college kid currently dripping rainwater all over the floor and counter of the cozy little coffeeshop Billy lovingly refers to as his shitty second job. It had started pouring a couple of minutes ago, a perfect end to a dreary Tuesday morning, and now there’s this guy standing in front of him with dark wet hair and big brown eyes looking at him like a drowned puppy. 

This is why Heather is supposed to man the front counter. 

“Hey, man, do you guys have a restroom I could use?” The guy asks, smiling sheepishly as he shakes his head the tiniest bit, flinging more water onto the counter, and Billy does not find it cute. Nope. Not at all. 

“It’s for customers only,” Billy says as he takes in the way the guy’s wet clothes absolutely cling to him as he shifts. The guy frowns at him and wipes at the water dripping down his neck.

“Okay.” He drawls slowly, “I’ll get a coffee.” He says, reaching into his wet jeans for his wallet. A smirk tugs at Billy’s lips. This is going to be fun. He slowly twists around to regard the menu board behind him, laden with dozens of different drinks, hot and iced seasonal offerings, and new coffee roasts, before he slowly turns back to eye the pretty boy in front of him.

“Could you be more specific?” Billy says pointedly, giving the guy a deliberate once over as he taps a painted black fingernail on the counter. The college boy blinks rapidly, clearly flustered, as a pretty pink blush flushes his cheeks. Billy watches with amusement as the guy pushes his wet hair back to squint at the menu before Billy finally takes pity on him.

“How about I get you a vanilla latte?” He says brusquely, “I’m sure that’s your Starbucks order.” He says, already punching it in the register. The guy looks at him again, a little shocked, and then he’s rolling his eyes.

“Sure.  _ Whatever. _ Where’s the bathroom?” 

“It’s $3.59,” Billy replies and drags his tongue over his teeth with a smug grin before he nods to the side, “And the keys are by the bar. Put ‘em back when you’re done.” He says and the pretty boy just sets his jaw and runs his card through the scanner quickly before he books it away from Billy. 

Billy checks out his ass until the guy rounds the corner and Billy pushes off the counter to start on the drink. He packs the portafilter to pull the shots, putting a wide ceramic mug underneath, before he moves on to steam the milk and vanilla syrup together. This is what he’s good at. Precise movements and rhythm to get a result, not fake ass customer service bullshit.

He’s too much for it anyway. Too sarcastic, too tattooed, too….mildly threatening in the way he smiles at customers. So, he and Heather worked out a system. She takes the counter and charms a tip out of everyone and Billy makes the damn coffee in peace and doesn’t have to worry about boys with  _ pretty _ all over. 

But the system only works if she doesn’t take forever on break.

“Heather, are you done yet? I need a fucking smoke!” Billy calls to the back as he pours the milk into the espresso. With a few easy flicks of his wrist, the foam makes a nice feathered design on the top, the kind that has the hipsters and sorority girls and young professional types cooing and taking a picture to post on their instagram before they take a sip. Billy doesn’t really mind, it's easy for him to do and always gets them bigger tips.

Heather pokes her head out of the back office, phone pressed to her ear as she gives him an unimpressed look. 

“What?” She asks.

“Didn’t your break end like ten minutes ago?” Billy says, “Stop making me deal with these assholes alone.” He complains and Heather gives him a sharp grin.

"Can’t handle it?” She teases. Billy just flips her off with a smile and sets the finished drink at the end of the bar. 

“Gimme five more minutes, then you can have your precious smoke break,” Heather says and then disappears again, gossiping loudly into her phone. Billy just shakes his head and grabs a couple of the syrups that are running low. He’s setting them up when Pretty Boy reappears.

“Oh,” The man says, “Is this mine?” He asks, gesturing to the mug on the counter. He’s not dripping anymore. Billy gives him an easy smile and looks around the mostly empty store as he steps closer. 

“I don’t see anyone else waiting for it,” Billy teases, leaning against the counter in a way that he  _ knows _ makes his arms look good, covered in tattoos and muscles flexed to support his weight. Billy almost laughs when the pretty boy’s gaze gets stuck on them even as he bristles at Billy’s comment. Too easy.

“I, uh,” The college boy clears his throat and finally looks away, cheeks dusted pink, “I was thinking I would just-” He trails off as he glances outside with an aborted gesture to the window. Billy cocks an eyebrow. 

“What, you were gonna head back out?” Billy asks incredulously and the guy looks back at him, shrugging. Billy barks out a laugh. “Didn’t you just get all cleaned up?” He teases, reaching out to give the collar of the guy’s polo a quick tug.

“Hey!” The college boy jumps a little, batting Billy’s hand away, “What’s your problem man?” He asks and he sounds more genuinely confused than angry, so Billy just laughs.

“Nothin’,” Billy tells him, shrugging and settling back against the counter lazily, “But you just got here, pretty boy,” He drawls, “You should stay a while.” Billy lets his voice go deep and honey-smooth when he flirts.

The guy opens his mouth, looking as confused as ever, when another voice interrupts them.

“Billy, go have your smoke so you stop bitching about it,” Heather says, texting as she walks out from the back again. She pauses when she finally glances up from her phone, looking between the two of them curiously. 

Billy just pushes off of the counter, giving the guy a wink and a cocky grin, before he heads to the back. As he pats down his jacket for his smokes, he can hear faint conversation.

“...he always like that?” Pretty boy says as Billy finally fishes out his pack and his lighter. 

“Could you be more specific?” Heather’s sugar-sweet tone in response makes Billy snort as he bangs open the door to the alley out back, already lighting up.

By the time he gets back, Pretty Boy is long gone.


	2. caramel iced coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was written very fast and un-beta'd, so sorry if there are a ton of mistakes
> 
> also robin and billy are gay bff's sorry I don't make the rules

“Hey,” Robin’s voice makes Billy look up from price tagging a stack of records and she raps her knuckles against the counter plastered with old gig flyers, “Did the new shipment come in yet?” She asks and Billy lifts a pierced eyebrow.

“We don’t get the new Girl in Red until next week,” He says and Robin’s jaw drops. 

“Rude!” She accuses, “Why am I friends with you?” She asks and then hops up on the counter. 

“We’re not friends, Buckley,” Billy says, turning towards her and gesturing between them, “We’re coworkers.” He snarks and she rolls her eyes.

“Yes, _Robin_ , thank you so much for setting up my Grindr profile, _Robin_ , so it doesn’t look like I’m a fucking serial killer and I can actually get laid for once,” Robin mocks, “You’re _welcome_ , Billy, that’s what friends are for.” She continues, shooting him a pointed look.

Billy glares at her. “I don’t need Grindr,” He states, rolling his shoulders, and Robin laughs.

“No, you just settle for shitty handjobs in the bathroom of some seedy bar like it's the 80s,” She quips back. Billy glares at her and her shit-eating grin.

“Why are you here?” Billy finally asks, “Aren’t you supposed to be off teaching the youth or some shit instead of bothering me?” Robin hums.

“I’m _student_ teaching the youth,” She corrects, shrugging, “And I have the day off and, as much as it is very _very_ fun to annoy you, I’m waiting for an album to come in.” 

Billy regards her cooly. “What album?”

“None of your business, dickwad,” She says and gives him a smile that feels like a fuck you.

“Well, fuck me, forget I asked then,” Billy says forcefully, shaking his head as he turns back to the stack of records in front of him. He makes a face as he takes a sip of his now too cold coffee and tosses the paper cup in the trash. Damn. He’d really been hoping it would keep longer. Hopper always keeps some coffee in the back next to an ancient coffeemaker, but it’s kind of shitty. Billy needs to steal some grounds from the cafe and make his own stash.

“Did you work at the cafe this morning?” Robin asks, feet kicking the counter lightly as she fingers through the pile of zines next to the register.

Billy nods. “Kevin called in sick, so I had to go open. Maria gave the keys.” He grunts, inspecting an old Hendrix album. He doesn’t think he has this one. Robin lets out a low whistle.

“First the keys to Upside Down Records and now the keys to The Lab?” She says, “You’re really moving up in the world,” She teases and Billy flips her off.

“Yeah, it’s fucking thrilling,” He deadpans and then hesitates before he adds, “I want a new drum kit though, so I’m taking any hours I can get.” Now that he’s spoken it out loud, it feels a little too real. Like he’s just asking for the universe to fuck him over for wanting something. He’s already pressed his luck enough that Hopper lets him store his old battered kit in the back of the store and lets him practice after they close.

“That’d be sick,” Robin says and then frowns, “Wait, if you had to open weren’t you there at like 5 AM?” She asks and glances at the clock on the wall that reads 4:38 PM. Billy shrugs.

“Some of us have rent to pay,” He says and Robin rolls her eyes.

“At least you won’t have a mountain of student loans to pay back,” She retorts and then picks at a spot on the counter, “Does that mean you worked with Heather this morning?” She asks, tone too innocent to be convincing, and Billy’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You know her schedule now, Buckley?” He asks, a smile tugging on his lips. Robin sits up straighter. 

“No!” She says, glaring at him, “I was just curious, okay? Shut up.” 

“Jesus, just ask the chick out next time you come by the cafe,” Billy says and ignores the way Robin has some sort of moment next to him.

“I don’t even know if she likes girls!” She says finally.

“Well, she doesn’t shut the fuck up about the dates she goes on, so I’m 99% sure she likes pussy.” Billy says, “ _You_ just need to stop being one.” He tells her and Robin makes a face at him and shoves at his shoulder.

“And what about you, Mr. I’m-too-good-for-dating-apps. Meet any cute boys recently?” She asks pointedly and Billy huffs out a laugh as he cuts his gaze back to the records in front of him, marking a Rupert Holmes vinyl a little too aggressively.

“Fuck off, Buckley,” He says, definitely _not_ thinking about a pretty boy that got caught in the rain.

“Oh my god, you _did,_ ” Robin exclaims, “Tell me all about it.” She demands, smacking her hand on the counter and Billy glances up at her, eyebrows furrowing.

“What?” He asks and Robin huffs dramatically.

“I am a romantically starved lesbian and I need to live vicariously through you,” She says, pointing at him, “My slutty best friend.”

“Oh, we’re _best friends_ now, are we?” Billy mocks. Robin just smiles sweetly at him and leans across the counter.

“Okay, _one_ , I love that you _fully_ acknowledge that you’re a slut,” She says slowly and Billy shrugs.

“Not my fault most guys want to hop on my-” Robin cuts him off by smacking him on the arm.

“ _Two_ , Don’t avoid the subject. Tell me about this guy,” She says and when Billy just rolls his eyes, she starts poking him in the shoulder. “Billy,” She sing-songs, “Billy!”

"Fucking- There’s nothing to tell!” Billy finally says, exasperated as he shoves her hand away, “He was a pretty boy with a nice ass that came in for coffee. Happy now?”

Robin tsks and leans back. “Well, you don’t have to get so worked up about it.” She scolds.

Billy stares at her blankly. “Holy shit,” He says, “Why am I friends with you?”

Robin’s whole face lights up. “Ha! See? We’re friends, Hargrove. You just admitted it!” She says, gesturing between them as she hops off the counter. Billy rests his elbow on the counter, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. 

“I fucking hate you,” He sighs, absolutely lying through his teeth and gritting his jaw so he doesn’t fucking smile back at her. Robin is maybe the closest thing he’s had to a best friend since she started working here a few months ago. He’d have to have a gun to his head before he admitted that out loud, though. She already has enough dirt on him.

“Nope,” Robin says, popping the ‘P’ on the end, “No take-backs. You’re stuck with me now.” She says, looking smug as she walks backwards towards the door, converse squeaking on the wooden paneling of the floor. 

“Text me if the new shipment comes in before my shift Thursday!” She says, “Oh! And Hop said to make sure you feed Binx!” She calls and then she’s out the door as Billy raises his head to yell.

“That’s not his-” He cuts himself off when he realizes she’s already gone. Billy shoves himself off the counter and grabs the stack of records, pausing on his way over to the ‘70s section to pet the black cat stretched over the jazz records.

“You know that’s not your name, huh, Zepp?” He murmurs, scratching the sleepy cat right between the ears before he carries on restocking vinyl. If his thoughts stray to a certain pretty boy with bright eyes and pink cheeks, he blames it on the lack of sleep and the fact he hasn’t gotten laid in a while.

* * *

The cafe is _busy_. A non-stop early morning rush that turned into the mid-morning rush which turned into a late morning rush and Billy’s shift isn’t even half over. He and Heather make a good team but the new kid on the bar is fucking up their rhythm. It’s taking everything in Billy to bite his tongue and not hurl insults at the kid because he’s not that guy anymore. Or trying not to be anyway. So Billy just grits his teeth and ties up his hair and works harder to make up the slack.

“I have... two caramel iced coffees for Steve?” He calls out, reading the side of the plastic cups as he sets them on the pick-up counter.

“That would be me,” A familiar voice has Billy’s head snapping up, blue eyes meeting brown, as the cute college guy from a couple of days ago walks up to the counter. And damn, if Billy thought he was pretty before, he didn’t know what to think now. 

The guy, _Steve_ , was in a tight grey t-shirt with “Hawkins High” in lettering on the front and a pair of gym shorts that were so short, they looked like something straight out of the ’80s. His cheeks and nose were pink and his hair was all wind tousled like he’d just got back from a run. Or just got fucked.

Billy blinks and then laughs as Steve reaches for his order. “Well, well, the pretty boy is back. And he has a _name,_ ” Billy teases, leaning against the counter. Steve raises his eyebrows and gives him a look that Billy can’t read.

“I think most people have names, _Billy_ ,” Steve says and it’s slow and pointed. He’s staring right back at Billy, something glimmering in his eyes, and he’s _teasing_. A slow smile spreads across Billy’s face, tongue poking out to wet his lips.

“And my name sounds so good coming out of your mouth, princess,” Billy leers, smirking at him when Steve’s eyes widen a little and he swallows, obviously not as prepared as he thought he was going up against Billy. Steve clears his throat.

“You been thinking about my mouth a lot?” He asks and Billy laughs, bright and loud. This guy is hot and _fun_. He opens his mouth to respond when Heather’s voice comes from behind him.

“Billy!” She snaps at him when he turns, gesturing at the small mountain of orders that have stacked up behind him and he makes an aborted gesture back. He glares daggers at the new kid.

“By the way,” Steve says slowly, pulling Billy’s attention back around to him. “A vanilla latte is _not_ my Starbucks order,” He says matter of factly and then shoots Billy a mischievous smile. It definitely _doesn’t_ make Billy’s stomach flip and clench with anticipation. Steve holds up the two iced coffees loftily. ”And neither is this,” He says playfully before turning on his heel and heading out the door. 

Billy can only stare after him, a bit dazed, before Heather throws a towel at his head and he gets back to work, snatching an order from the pile and not trying hard enough to keep his thoughts off of pretty brown eyes and tiny running shorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh a bratty steve has appeared! 
> 
> I'm having too much fun writing this one, so please let me know if you liked!


	3. doppio, mocha frappuccino, and twenty-eight hot chocolates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy loves a challenge. 
> 
> this is just an excuse to badly write dumb boys flirting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for some homophobic language in this chapter

It becomes like a game after that. When Steve comes back a couple days later, he looks Billy dead in the eye as he tells Heather, “Have him surprise me.” Billy tilts his chin up, cocky grin on his face as something flares in his stomach, hot and addictive.

“I love a challenge, pretty boy,” Billy says, shoving his sleeves up and maintaining the eye contact as he whispers something in Heather’s ear. She lets out a put-upon sigh and rings up what Billy is planning on making.

“Your  _ surprise _ will be waiting for you at the end of the counter,” She says, voice overly saccharine as she rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone. “And you’re ridiculous,” She throws over her shoulder at Billy, but he’s too busy packing the portafilter and watching Steve lean against the counter out of the corner of his eye to be listening to a word she says.

Steve nearly loses his shit at the tiny ceramic cup Billy sets in front of him, laughing bright and loud in the quiet coffee shop. “What is  _ that _ ? Why is it so  _ small _ !?” Steve manages to get out between laughs, cheeks flushed a happy pink and Billy has to fight to keep a smile off of his own face.

“Alright, espresso’s off the list,” Billy says as Steve manages to compose himself a little. 

“Did you make me  _ just _ a shot of espresso?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as he picks up the little cup and then giggles breathlessly at how it looks between his fingers.

“Two shots.  _ Doppio _ .” Billy corrects and Steve hums before knocking it back. The action startles a laugh out of Billy. “And most people  _ sip _ it, not down it like a shot of vodka.” He says as Steve wrinkles his nose.

“Yeah, well, obviously not my first choice,” Steve says, pushing the empty cup back to Billy. 

“Here’s a hint,” Steve says, eyes practically sparkling with mischief as he leans against the counter again, “What I like is a lot bigger,” He says, biting his lip and giving Billy an obvious once over before he pushes away.

Billy lets out an incredulous laugh as he watches him go. Okay, let the game begin.

* * *

They fall into something of a routine. Steve will come in a few times a week and each time Billy will make him some mystery drink that Steve will turn his nose up at but ends up drinking eventually. 

Some days, Steve will be in and out, quick as lightning, obviously on his way to class or somewhere else important, and Billy will barely even have time to look at the guy. Not for lack of trying. Steve is  _ very _ nice to look at. Pretty boy through and through, even with his hair sticking up everywhere in a hoodie and short running shorts at 7:00 AM, blinking sleepily at Billy as he hands over his credit card.

Billy’s covering the register as the new guy grabs some stock from the back. It’s still early enough in the morning that Billy doesn’t mind. The shop is right on the outskirts of campus, so it isn’t too busy yet. And it means he has more time to talk to the sleepy, doe-eyed boy in front of him.

“You know,  _ Harrington, _ ” Billy says, handing Steve his card back and Steve accepts it with a fond shake of his head. Billy has refused to call him by his first name, loves to tease him ever since he saw Steve’s old high school dodgeball tournament t-shirt one day,  _ Steve “The Hair” Harrington _ emblazoned on the back made for all too easy of a target.

“I’m pretty sure weapons aren’t allowed on campus,” Billy continues, reaching for a to-go cup to start a mocha as he looks pointedly at the pole sticking out of his backpack, “Unless you were, I don’t know, planning to go catch some butterflies.”

Steve makes a face at him. “Haha, you’re so funny,” He says sarcastically, voice all rough and scratchy from sleep, and Billy swallows hard, something hot tugging behind his belly. “It’s a lacrosse stick, asshole,” Steve says, moving down the counter to the pick-up area. 

Billy lifts a pierced eyebrow. “Ah, should have known you were the sporty type with all your-” Billy gestures to Steve, tattooed fingers wiggling at him as he pours steamed milk into the cup with his other hand.

Steve yawns and shrugs. “Sporty Spice  _ was _ always my favorite,” He says, “But, uh, I’m on scholarship for-” He trails off, gesturing to the lacrosse stick in his bag, “-pretty sure it’s the only thing that got me in, in the first place.” He says, lazy and resigned, and something about it makes Billy frown.

“I don’t know shit about college,“ Billy says, clearing his throat, “But getting in on a scholarship doesn’t sound like a bad deal to me,” He puts a lid on Steve’s coffee and hands it to him. Brown eyes meet blue as Steve stares at him a moment, tension drawn taut between them, before he blinks and grabs the cup.

“Thanks,” Steve says and Billy just nods, moving back towards the espresso machine to wipe down and get it ready for another order. He watches as Steve takes a sip out of the corner of his eye.

“Mocha?” Steve calls out and Billy shoots him a grin.

“Did I get it right?” He asks and Steve smiles at him and shakes his head, hefting his backpack, heavy with lacrosse gear, on his shoulders as he walks backwards towards the door. Billy flips him off, making Steve laugh. God, he was cute. Since when did Billy go for dorky jocks of all types?

“Try again tomorrow, Billy,” Steve says and smiles like a promise.

* * *

Some days, Steve will come in for hours. He’ll bring his laptop and claim a table next to the window, stacking piles of papers and folders around him. Those are Billy’s favorite shifts. He gets to flirt with Steve every time he comes up for a refill, tease him about his hair or his preppy clothes or his fucking  _ glasses, _ and watch him get all riled up and pink-cheeked. Sometimes Steve will flirt back. It’s  _ good _ .

Those days let him steal glances at the pretty boy while he works, catches Steve with his tongue poking out as he concentrates on the papers in front of him or chewing on the cap of his red pen as he circles something or his profile when Steve looks out the window. It also lets Billy catch Steve stealing glances at  _ him _ and he never fails to let the princess know when he’s been caught. Whether he flexes his arms or gives him a cocky smirk or runs his tongue over his teeth with a wink, it always makes Steve’s eyes go wide as he quickly turns back to his work, a pretty blush settling on his cheekbones.

Steve coming in to work for hours on end also gives Billy plenty of chances to guess his drink. It’s been several weeks and he hasn’t gotten it yet, but he’s not giving up. He loves the little challenge they’ve set up. That it draws out the tension between them. He’s not sure where all this is going but it’s definitely fun. Billy will win though. He’s nothing if not a stubborn asshole. And he knows it. 

Steve’s pretty stubborn too, though, if the day Billy kept bringing him frappuccino after frappuccino is any indication. 

Steve had groaned when Billy placed the third frozen drink in front of him. “No,” He moans, “Anything else, man,” Steve pouts as Billy chuckles. 

“I promise, it’s not a frappe, please,” Steve begs, “I’m going to get a fucking migraine from all the sugar.”

“Not my problem, pretty boy,” Billy says, shrugging. Steve lets out a frustrated noise.

“You’re evil!” He accuses.

“That right?” 

“Yes.”

Billy hums. “I’d say  _ tactical,  _ princess. Now I know what it definitely is not,” He says and Steve rolls his eyes. Billy runs his tongue over his teeth with a sharp smile. “I’ll make you a deal. If you tell me what your drink is, I’ll make that for you instead.”

Steve narrows his eyes and slowly grabs the straw from his last drink. “You are gonna have to try way harder than that.” He says and Billy freezes, eyes widening, as Steve licks a slow stripe of melted whipped cream off the length of his straw. Billy can feel the back of his neck go hot as his brain conjures up images of what else that pretty pink tongue could do. 

A crackle of plastic where Steve jams his straw in the new drink brings Billy back to reality and he looks up to find Steve smirking at him.

“I’m not giving in that easily,” Steve whispers, leaning in conspiratorially. Billy leans across the counter, heavy rings and bracelets dragging on the counter as he takes up Steve’s space and grins, slow and smug, the air so thick with tension around them it practically crackles. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Harrington,” He whispers back when they’re only inches apart, tongue darting out to wet his lips, and he doesn’t miss the way Steve’s gaze drops to his mouth. Steve’s eyes flick back up to meet his as he swallows and Billy lets out a breath of laughter.

“It’ll just make my victory that much sweeter, don’t you think?” Billy asks, pulling away with a wink to leave Steve blinking up at him, all doe-eyed and adorable, lips still slightly parted like they’re begging to be kissed.

Steve clears his throat, cheeks tinged pink as he straightens up. “Whatever,” He scoffs, “If you make me another frappuccino, though, I’m never coming back here.”

* * *

“Woah, what happened to your face?” 

Billy glances up to see Steve staring at him in open-mouthed concern. Billy gives him a smile, even though it makes his split lip sting and the bruise on his cheek ache.

“This is nothing, pretty boy.” He says, “You should see the other guy.” 

And it was true. He had been at a show, some local hardcore bands playing a shitty little bar with sticky floors and amps turned up so loud the music was almost indecipherable. Billy got lost in the pit, air hot and muggy from the crowd and bodies surrounding his slick with sweat. His shirt was already off and hanging out of his back pocket, tattoos and muscle on full display as the throng of bodies pushed at each other, rowdy and chaotic from the music. 

When the band’s set ended, the crowd shifted, some leaving to get drinks as others pushed forward, wanting to get closer for the next band’s start. Billy moved with it, easier to go with the wave than fight it. Like the ocean’s tide. An elbow in his side has him whipping around, though, teeth bared. A kid with an unfortunate bowl cut looks him up at him in terror. 

“I’m sorry!” He squeaks, cheeks going pink, and the kid couldn’t be more than fifteen. Baby’s first punk show. Billy’s swallows down his anger and shakes his head.

“It’s all good,” Billy says, “Just keep your elbows in,” He adds and the kid nods quickly, eyes darting away as Billy turns back towards the stage. He watches the next band set up, body thrumming with energy, vaguely aware of the kid slowly making his way closer to the front, arms pressed tightly to his sides. Billy snorts. He watches, amused, as the short teen searches for a spot he can see from, slowly making his way back towards Billy’s side of the stage, when a surge of the crowd makes him lose his footing, and the kid trips hard into some guy’s back.

“Hey! Watch it, faggot!” The guy spits and shoves at the teen’s shoulder and Billy sees red. In a blink, Billy is at the asshole’s side, smiling like a shark.

“You got a problem with faggots?” Billy asks pointedly and he winks at the kid before he throws a mean right hook. 

Security breaks it up pretty fast, but not fast enough to prevent Billy from breaking the dude’s nose. Billy only caught a couple punches in the face. He laughed it off as the hits landed and punched back even harder before they had been forced apart and dragged out of the crowd.

He hopes the last set for the kid had been worth it as he tongues the cut on his lip. 

Steve is still standing in front of him, looking like a deer in headlights. 

“Chill,  _ Bambi _ ,” Billy teases, “I’m fine.” He insists and then rolls his shoulders, “Anyway, today’s the day I’m gonna get it right.”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says, scratching the back of his neck, “I kind of ordered something else too,” He says with a wince. 

“Uh, okay?” Billy says slowly, not quite sure why Steve is acting so shifty all of the sudden. “And that would be…” He prompts, but Heather cuts him off.

“Twenty-eight small hot chocolates,” She chimes in, smiling sweetly. Billy raises his eyebrows to give Steve an incredulous look.

“Uh, no,” Billy says bluntly.

“What?” The guilt on Steve’s face melts away to confusion.

“No, Harrington,” Billy repeats, “Why do you even need that?”

“It’s midterms this week, so I-”

“ _ Twenty-eight _ ?!”

“They’re not all for me!” Steve protests.

“Well, I would fucking hope not,” Billy retorts, already grabbing a new sleeve of paper cups. “You,” He points to Steve, “go sit your cute ass down at the end of the bar,” He commands, pointing towards Steve’s usual spot by the window, “and don’t even think about coming up and asking when they’ll be ready.” He says and then shakes his head.

“Twenty-eight fucking hot chocolates” He mutters under his breath, lining up the cups in neat rows so he can do them in batches. “And  _ I’m _ the evil one.” He scoffs as Steve leans across the bar, smiling at him fondly with those big eyes.

“Thank you, Billy,” Steve says sweetly.

“Didn’t I tell you to get your ass away from me?” Billy grumbles and Steve laughs.

“Pretty sure it was my  _ cute _ ass,” Steve corrects, and what Billy wouldn’t give to wipe that bratty little smirk off of his face. Instead, he just snaps and points to the end of the bar. Steve makes a show of rolling his eyes and  _ slowly  _ doing as he’s told as Billy gets to work.

He gets the hot chocolates arranged, nice and secure, in an old cardboard box they had lying around in the back and sets it on the counter as Steve rummages in his backpack.

“Princess, if you drop this and try to come back in, I swear to god, I will toss your ass back out of here,” Billy cuts off as Steve holds out two pills. Billy tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing.

“What, is this my tip?” He asks, “You offering to get me high, pretty boy?” Steve rolls his eyes.

“They’re Tylenol, dumbass,” Steve says, “I thought you might want it for your-” He trails off, gesturing at Billy’s face. 

“I told you I was fine, Stevie,” Billy says, shaking his head.

“It looks like it hurts,” Steve says, and damn if he’s not giving Billy those big, concerned puppy dog eyes again. Billy sighs.

“If I take your stupid pain meds, will you stop giving me that look?” Billy asks, already swiping the pills from Steve’s fingers. He downs them quickly as Steve hops off chair and grabs for the box of drinks from the counter with a satisfied smile.

“Don’t forget yours,” Billy says, pushing a large cup towards him. Steve hums and reaches for it, taking a huge sip as Billy watches him carefully. Steve frowns as he brings the cup away from his lips.

“Is this just another hot chocolate?” He asks incredulously.

“You do not  _ deserve _ coffee after what you just put me through,” Billy accuses, pointing at Steve threateningly as the other man laughs and holds up his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay!” Steve says, laughter fading into a fond smile that has Billy’s belly flipping.

“Get outta here, Harrington,” Billy says, clearing his throat as he grabs a rag. He can’t look at Steve when the guy is looking at him like  _ that _ . “Go chase the ultimate sugar high or whatever the fuck it is you’re doing with all of those.” 

Billy barely hears him leave, just raises his hand in acknowledgment at Steve’s voice and watches out of the corner of his eye as the preppy asshole has to hip check the door open to get out with his arms full. Steve’s hair keeps flopping in his face as he maneuvers out the door, blowing at it determinedly as if that will get the locks to settle back into place. It’s annoyingly adorable.

Billy is so screwed.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is so let me know what you think! 
> 
> come say hi on tumblr @peachypunk22


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